The anchor came back on screen. Several other governors have publicly said that they stand will stand with Texas, including the governors of Nebraska, Arizona, Iowa, Wyoming, Indiana, North Dakota and South Dakota. However, President Armando appears to be unyielding.
Joshua turned off the television. “I thought Armando was bad news from day one, and he’s worse than I ever imagined.” He shook his head and changed the subject. “By the way, I’ve talked to everyone on the council. After lunch I’m going to take Reagan and go up on the trail and just spend some quiet time thinking.”
“It’s going to be cold up there.” She peeked out the window at the light snow falling.
“I’ll be fine,” Joshua assured her. “I’ll put on plenty of warm clothes.”
***
Joshua donned his camouflage winter weather hunting suit, green ski mask and insulated hunting cap with earmuffs and zipped the suit up to his chin.
“That should keep you warm, but camouflage won’t do much good against the white backdrop of the snow.” Rebecca chuckled. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Then it’s a good thing bears hibernate in winter.” Joshua gave her a quick kiss and went out into the cold. Reagan followed without hesitation and seemed energized by the brisk winter air. The intensifying snowfall and cold wind stabbed at Joshua’s face as they made their way up the trail.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, boy.” Reagan’s tail wagged when Joshua spoke, but he remained unfazed by the cold.
The swirling snow pelted Joshua as they climbed the trail. They eventually reached their destination: an area in a brief downhill climb shielded from the wind by rocks on all sides and where the snowfall was impeded by overhead trees. This was the perfect place – quiet and secluded.
Joshua situated himself on a rock and removed his Bible, journal and pen from his backpack. Reagan explored the immediate area but never wandered out of sight. Joshua’s mind drifted into deep thought and he lost track of time, staring off into space. He reflected on the past year. He and Rebecca had abandoned their farm and he had led a group of people to this remote mountain camp. They had willingly followed him. They had trusted him. Somehow, everyone made it here in one piece. A year later the camp remained intact, and everyone was alive and healthy. Not bad. Things weren’t so good outside of the camp. The nation he loved was a pathetic shadow of its former self. Joshua sighed. He had so looked forward to spending time with Rebecca on their farm, just the two of them, away from all of the pressures associated with leadership and politics. But the events of the past year had dictated otherwise. Here he was, again thrust into a leadership role, this time against his will. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for what felt like an eternity.
Suddenly a light bulb went off in his head and he began scribbling furiously in the journal. Half an hour later he closed the journal and Bible. “Come on, boy.” Joshua put the journal and Bible into his backpack. “Let’s head down.”
Reagan led the way as they pushed through the blowing snow. They wound down several curves to an area where the trail passed through a wide clearing. Joshua felt his stomach turn as Reagan suddenly stopped and began growling. The dog’s ears perked up and his tail pointed straight up into the air. Joshua drew his pistol and got down on one knee behind a small, barren tree. “What is it, boy?” he whispered. This tree doesn’t offer much cover, he thought.
Reagan took several steps forward, tail straight as an arrow, still growling. Joshua’s heart pounded as he quietly removed his backpack, took out a small telescope and scanned the open space in front of them and the mountainside behind it. He saw nothing.
After a few minutes Reagan abruptly turned and came to Joshua. He looked back at the horizon several times, his growl fading into a low moan. Joshua’s heart raced as he scratched Reagan’s head. “What was it, boy?” Reagan turned and again pointed, emitting a faint growl.
“Let’s stay here for a bit.”
Reagan sat beside him. Joshua waited for a few minutes before moving across the clearing, staying low as he progressed.
“Rebecca was right that this camouflage doesn’t help against a white backdrop,” Joshua mumbled to himself, his heart racing. “I need a white winter suit.”
Joshua kept his 9mm drawn the whole time. After what seemed like an eternity they reached the other side of the long clearing and entered a thickly wooded part of the trail. After rounding a curve Joshua went about fifteen feet up the side of the mountain and hid behind a rock. “Let’s wait here and see if anyone or anything follows us.” His heart pounded as his right hand still gripped his Beretta. He pressed his left hand against Reagan’s neck, hoping the touch would keep the curious canine from compromising their position.
Joshua waited. The time moved like cold molasses, but his gut told him he should wait and see if anything out of the ordinary happened. Nothing did. After some time he again began making his way down the trail. Reagan kept an eye out ahead of them and Joshua kept checking the trail behind them. Again, nothing. Joshua’s heart was still pounding, but Reagan appeared completely relaxed. How can you go from being on high alert to completely calm so quickly?
When they reached the edge of the camp Joshua entered the inside of the hedgerow. He looked back one final time before moving down the dark passageway. Someone or something was watching us back there.
The inside of the pitch-black passageway was dank and musky. Joshua reached out into the darkness. So this is what it feels like to be blind. The ground squished beneath his feet as leaves and branches brushed across his face and torso. He stumbled forward, nearly falling. What did I just trip over? He reached out into the darkness with his left hand, trying to feel anything that might guide his steps. He heard something moving up ahead. I sure hope that’s Reagan. SMACK! Joshua felt twigs and branches jab into his face and arms. I guess there’s a sharp turn here.
A voice penetrated the darkness. “Who goes there?”
“Who is that?” Joshua answered with a question of his own.
“Joshua? It’s Bob. What are you doing in here?”
Joshua described what had happened on the trail. “I just had an uneasy feeling about it. I felt like we were being watched, but I didn’t see anyone or anything.”
“Martin and I will keep an eye out.”
Bob led them to an exit near Drew’s cabin. Joshua met Jim as he entered the clearing.
“You look like an Eskimo,” Jim said. “Where have you been?”
“I went up the trail to clear my head and collect my thoughts about what I should do in regard to the chairmanship. After our conversation I thought getting away from the camp to think would be helpful.”
Jim smiled. “Did you come to a resolution?”
“I think so, but I still want to sleep on it,” Joshua answered. “Either way, I need to spend more time away from the camp where I can think with a clear head.”
“That would be good for you.” Jim nodded.
Joshua decided not to tell him about the incident on the trail, feeling it was better not to alarm anyone else – especially since he was not sure what exactly had happened up there. They parted and Joshua made his way back to the cabin, where Rebecca greeted him with a hot cup of coffee.
“I thought you could use this after being out in the cold for so long.”
Joshua removed several of his outer layers of clothing. Reagan had beaten him to the fireplace and was curled up, already sound asleep.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Went well. I think I know what I’m going to do.”
“And?”
“I don’t see any other choice but to serve again.” He shook his head, grabbed Rebecca’s hands and looked into her eyes. “I am SO sorry that our plans for a quiet life together fell apart. I really did want to spend this time with just you and me.”
She smacked him on the leg. “We already covered this, Josh. We really don’t have a choice.”
***
Abdar spoke as he took his seat beside President Armando at the boardroom table. “I have some sad news. We have learned that Richard Webb was killed last night. It appears he was assassinated by AIS terrorists.”
Benjamin felt a wave of tension surge throughout his body, struggling to conceal his reaction. AIS didn’t do this, he thought. This was an inside job. He noticed the look of utter horror on Anthony’s face. Russo agrees. This happened because Richard dared to challenge Abdar in the last meeting.
President Armando lowered his head. “This is terrible news. Please join me in a moment of silence for our fallen comrade, Richard Webb.”
Benjamin surveyed the room through squinted eyes. Anthony’s face still conveyed utter shock. President Armando seemed genuinely saddened. Abdar and Adilah were stone-faced.
“Thank you.” Armando opened his eyes. “Abdar, prepare a press statement about Richard’s death.”
Anthony raised his hand. “Mr. President, I believe any statement we make should include a pledge to bring Richard’s killers to justice. We cannot let this go unanswered.”
“Leave the press statement to me,” Abdar interjected.
“With all due respect, Abdar, I wasn’t talking to you. I was speaking to the President.”
“And I speak for the President.”
“Not until he tells me you do.” Anthony said. “Mr. President, if AIS can kill a member of your inner circle without fear of retaliation, why should they fear coming after you?”
“You let me worry about that!” Abdar slammed his fist on the table.
This is getting out of hand, Benjamin thought. Anthony is going to find himself in the same cemetery as Richard. He raised his hand. “Mr. President, May I speak?”
“Go ahead, Leibowitz,” Armando said.
“While I respect the chain of command and the fact that you have delegated press work to Abdar, I do share Anthony’s concern that AIS will take a direct shot at you,” Benjamin calmly stated. “I don’t think any of us – Abdar, Adilah, Anthony or me – want that to happen. We’ve also read the reports of AIS gaining a foothold in the North Carolina mountains, and they still control the port at Morehead City. At some point citizens are going to wonder why we’re not moving to stop AIS. If the people are going to have confidence in this administration then we have to show them we are doing something.” Benjamin noticed Adilah whispering something to Abdar while he was speaking.
“You make good points, Leibowitz,” Armando said.
“Mr. President, what do you want to do?” Anthony asked.
“I have a man on the ground in western North Carolina who is working to get things under control,” Abdar interjected. “And I have a plan to gain control of the Morehead City situation.”
“Mr. President, what do YOU want to do?” Anthony again asked.
Armando sat silent for a moment, staring off into space. “I don’t know.”
***
The following Tuesday Joshua called the camp meeting to order. “Folks, I’ve done a lot of soul-searching since last week’s meeting. I’ve met with many of you this week and heard your insights. In particular, Jim pointed out that many of you – him included – came here with the assumption and understanding that I would be in a leadership role. He didn’t say it, but the implied message is that I would be letting you down if I just stepped away from the chairmanship at this point. That is the last thing I intend to do. With that said, I will remain as chair for this year if that is what the council desires.”
Applause rang out from the crowd.
“Before we move into the council meeting and elect a chairman, there are a few things that I think need to be said,” he continued. “We’re a small group, and we have done remarkably well over the past year. Things have gone downhill at a dramatic pace all over the country, but we have been relatively unscathed. We’re virtually self-sufficient. Unfortunately, I worry that we have become complacent. We’ve done well when we have been united, when we have put our differences aside and worked toward a common goal: survival. This week, I’ve seen some dangerous cracks in our unity. We have seen infighting, and that infighting worries me. It’s okay to disagree -- in fact, it’s healthy if done properly -- but at the end of the day we must stick together if we are going to survive. We must not let honest disagreements become personal. We are too small and too vulnerable to be divided among ourselves. We must be united, and that unity has to start with those of us who are on the council. If you elect me as your chair again, this is something I will push every day.”
Another round of applause rose from the crowd.
“With that said, let’s move into the council meeting,” Joshua said. Perry immediately nominated Joshua for chair and Bob seconded. Drew moved to close nominations and elect Joshua. The motion carried unanimously.
“Thank you for your trust,” Joshua said. “We have a good thing going here. We just have to keep it going, and that will require all of us working together.”
***
Attired in a green and khaki service uniform, Major General Cloos leaned back in his high-back leather chair and kicked his feet up on the expansive cherry desk, which was flanked by an American flag and a U.S. Marine Corps flag. The desktop was clear apart from a bankers’ lamp, notepad and silver pen. “Where do we stand, Major?”
“Sir, all of the terrorists have retreated to the port and we have them contained there,” Major Michael Chinn said. “We have established a blockade to prevent them from escaping by boat.”
Cloos brushed his fingers along his chiseled chin, which was adorned by a dark five o’clock shadow. “Well done, Major. What is our timeline for retaking the port and eliminating the terrorists?”
“We--"
A young woman in uniform stuck her head in the doorway. “Major General, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a video conference call coming in from Abdar Al-Haziz.”
Cloos pursed his lips. “Who the hell is that?”
“President Armando’s acting chief of staff.”
Cloos let out an audible grunt. “Put him through.”
The video screen on the back wall of Cloos’ office flared to life. Abdar appeared on screen along with President Armando, a young woman and two men.
“Major General Cloos,” Abdar began the conversation.
“You’ve got him,” Cloos responded gruffly.
“I am joined by President Armando, Adilah Hassan, Anthony Russo and Benjamin Leibowitz. The President and our entire team are gravely concerned by your refusal to follow our direct order to stand down.”
“Can you tell me why in the hell you would want to let these foreign invaders push inland on American soil without fighting back?” Cloos cocked his eyebrow.
“It is not your place to question our strategy!” Abdar raised his voice.
“What strategy?”
“You are out of line, Major General!”
“Abdar, or whatever the hell your name is, I don’t report to you and don’t give a rip what you think,” Cloos growled. “Mr. President, who is calling the shots? I see no evidence of a strategy and no indication that your administration has any plan whatsoever to purge these terrorists from American soil.”
President Armando remained silent. Abdar stood up and waved his fist at the camera. “Who do you think you are?”
“I am a Major General in the United States Marine Corps, and I took an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign or domestic. I just never thought the ‘domestic’ part of that oath would seem so relevant. Mr. President, it’s apparent you have nothing to say. Call me when you do.”
Major General Cloos motioned for his team to kill the video connection. As the screen went blank he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his fingers across his face, his brow furrowed. “Colonel Brookhart, put all defenses on high alert. Be on the lookout for a drone attack. Also tell our IT staff to increase our security against intrusions from anyone outside of this base, including those wh
o are affiliated with the U.S. Government. Tell them to block any intrusions or cyber-attacks and trace the source.”
“Will do, sir,” Colonel Kenneth Brookhart responded. “But do you really think President Armando would authorize an attack against his own military?”
Cloos clenched his teeth. “Better safe than sorry. And I’m not sure Armando has control of his own government.”
***
Benjamin unlocked the door to his small apartment in Virginia Beach, the city which had served as the Armando administration’s base of operations since the attack on Washington a year earlier. As he did every night, Benjamin drew his pistol and went room-to-room searching for intruders or other signs that something might be awry. Terrorists might want him dead because of his job with the Armando administration. Or because of his Jewish heritage. Or someone might simply break in looking for food, which was nowhere to be found in the now-empty stores in and around the Hampton Roads area. So far, he had not encountered problems. So far.
Benjamin opened his refrigerator and surveyed the full supply of milk, food and other conveniences. They were conveniences to him, but they were necessities that many on the outside would kill for. Benjamin felt a pang of guilt. He only had a full refrigerator because he worked for the President of the United States.
***
Joshua sipped his coffee as the TV flared to life. The newscaster offered a sobering report. AIS appears to have once again struck at the heart of the U.S. Government. Richard Webb, a top Homeland Security staffer and member of President Armando’s inner circle, was reportedly captured and beheaded in Virginia Beach this week. We have not seen a video of the purported beheading, which supposedly happened overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. Joshua shook his head and planted his face in his palm.
After the Republic Page 20
